


The Changing Room

by A_Damned_Scientist



Category: Farscape
Genre: Daydreaming, Dressing Room Sex, F/M, Semi-Public Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-05
Updated: 2018-01-05
Packaged: 2019-02-28 17:03:04
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,014
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13275936
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/A_Damned_Scientist/pseuds/A_Damned_Scientist
Summary: “It doesn’t work,” she stated, turning to go. Although quite why she thought that was unclear. Maybe it was because he was staring at her like a dumb idiot?“Oh yes it does...” he replied at last, standing to follow her back towards the changing rooms. “Just not for the wedding!”





	The Changing Room

**Author's Note:**

  * For [vinegardog](https://archiveofourown.org/users/vinegardog/gifts).



> Written because I seem to recall Laura wishing we’d seen what happened when John chased Aeryn into the changing room in the bridal shop during one of John’s daydreams in DWTB. Not that I have any arguments there. I’d like to have seen that too.
> 
> As you might expect from the scenario, this story is somewhat smutty. Hey ho. What did anyone think John and Aeryn planned on getting up to in there, anyway? Not rock paper scissors for sure. This story was hard to write, because... the events in the bridal shop never actually happened to John and Aeryn, so this isn’t even really a filler or AU fic. Hopefully it works, though.
> 
> Not mine, no money made etc. But if you have the lost tapes of this scene, I’ll pay you handsomely for them....  
> Thanks: To Vinegardog for Beta duties and to Ben, Claudia and the writers for providing my obsession.

**The Changing Room.**

 

She walked out along the catwalk, holding the long, double-split front of the dress aloft, giving him an unparalleled view of her impossibly long, hose-clad legs. Pausing to pose for him, she dropped the front of the dress, smoothing it down, sighing and gently tossing her long black hair.

He was agog, slack-jawed, lowering his sunglasses for a clearer view of the bridal-themed wet-dream standing nervously in front of him.

“It doesn’t work,” she stated, turning to go. Although quite why she thought that was unclear. Maybe it was because he was staring at her like a dumb idiot?

“Oh yes it does...” he replied at last, standing to follow her back towards the changing rooms. “Just not for the wedding!”

She giggled flirtatiously and hurried as fast as she could on her cream-coloured high-heels, round the corner and back into the changing room, with him hot on her tail. She turned to face him, catching his flushed grinning features as he bolted the changing room door behind them.

“Mrs Krabapple isn’t happy,” he wiggled his eyebrows at her questioning frown. “But she’s just gonna have to live with it. Can’t be the first time something like this has happened in one of her changing rooms.”

“You do realise that this is all just one of John Crichton’s daydreams don’t you?” she asked in a playful manner as he took a step forward, invading her personal space. It was a big room by changing room standards, as befitted a high-end bridal boutique. There was space enough for a chaise-longue, an Edwardian style chair, a more comfortably padded chair, a small table covered with magazines and a bouquet and a set of mirrors so that the bride to be could inspect herself from every angle. Aeryn’s beige skirt suit and another couple of wedding dresses hung from hangers on a rail.

“Does that mean I get to daydream whatever I like, then?” he smirked, stepping towards her and tossing his sunglasses on the table.

“Maybe,” she treated him to a crooked grin. “What sort of thing would you like to dream?” She tilted her head and ran a finger seductively down his leather jacket, from shoulder to nipple-area.

“Is it getting hot in here?” He asked and quickly shrugged off his jacket while she tugged on the collar of his blue zip-necked shirt, pulling him close to her, their thighs, arms and chests brushing tantalisingly against each other. “Or is it just me?”

“I’d say it’s just you...”  He leant in his head and they rubbed noses, slowly and deliberately. She grinned and he followed her lead. He leant in further and she tilted her head a fraction, eyes fluttering shut, lips parting as their lips met. Then the tips of their tongues did too.

There was a short intermission during which nothing further was said. Maybe long enough to run the opening credits to the episode.

“So,” she chewed on her lip, eyes sparkling and smiling as they parted for air.  “About this daydream...?”

“Turn around,” he ordered, with an indicative roll of his head.

“Why?” She asked, but did so anyway, staying as close to him as she could manage as she did so. He nuzzled up closer behind her anyway, and she turned sleepy eyes over her shoulder to lock with his more hungry ones.

“Because Aeryn’s not used to dresses,” his voice was low, soft and rumbling. She shivered. “She’s going to need a hand changing out of this one.”

“Is that so?” She tried to sound confident, mocking even, and in control, but her breath hitched into a gasp as she felt his big, strong hands land softly on her hips, skim up her sides, settle on the bare flesh of her shoulders. One hand brushed the shawl of her loose, raven hair aside, granting him access to kiss along the sensitive ridge of her shoulder from the curve where it met her arm to the curve of her neck.

Meanwhile his hands were skimming lightly along the ticklish flesh on the inner edges of her arms, making her tremble even more.

“Yeah, I reckon so,” he smirked. “Strictly a leather and T-shirt gal. She’s gonna need her good ole Erpboy to help her change.”

“I think if Aeryn could manage to put on the underwear I bet you’re imagining she has on underneath this, then she could manage the dress  itself.” She teased him.

“Really? Well, it’s my day dream, I get to check...”

“Hmmm,” she nodded as she felt him step back enough to access her back with his hands. She pressed her eyes and lips shut, then rolled her lower lip in to bite it as she felt zip start to move down, the bodice of the dress starting to loosen.

“We’re keeping this dress. For the honeymoon,” he remarked, easing one, then the other, of the spaghetti straps off of her shoulders, then using them to lower the dress, past her breasts, past her waist, past her hips. “So don’t forget to hang it up...” he finished, releasing it to pool on the floor. She stepped out of it, away from him, revelling in the validation of watching him watching her, loving his positive reactions.

“Oh. My. God.” He exclaimed, eyes bugging from their sockets, drinking in the sight of her as she bent over, picked up the dress and walked over to the clothes rail with it. “You weren’t kidding about the bridal lingerie!”

“Well, I was hardly likely to be wearing Calvins for this daydream of yours, was I?” Dress safely hung up, she slowly strutted back towards him, showing off and milking the moment. “Wedding dresses wouldn’t sit right with anything else,” she added with a wink.

“I guess not,” he grinned and licked his lips as she came back within arm’s reach. And arms did indeed reach out, pulling her into a tight embrace which soon developed into what could only be described as another snog.

“So what happens next in this daydream?” She leant back into his arms and pouted like a coquette as, with flourishing, exaggerated movements her fingers worked their way down the zip of his shirt, then down his sternum and across the planes of his abs towards his belt. She began to tug his shirt loose from his trousers.  His hands moved but kept up their caresses on her shoulders, back and hips, trying not to impede her as she went, while his feet toed off his shoes.

“Pretty much this,” he grinned back, relinquishing his grip on her in order to pull off his shirt. She reacted by flowing to her knees, taking time on the journey to appreciate the gold-spun silk on his muscular torso with her hands and her eyes. Once down, she set to work on his belt buckle and then the buttons of his trousers.

By the time he’d tossed his shirt aside his trousers were round his ankles and she was easing his feet out of them, one at a time. “You’re pretty proficient at that, missy. Been getting a lot of practice?” He teased. She arched an eyebrow but smiled anyway.

“Nice thighs...” she quipped, laying both hands on them, ostensibly to steady herself, as she made herself comfortable. “Although maybe you should wax them?” She treated him to an evil wink before returning her gaze to what was right in front of her.

“Oh my! Well, it’s obviously not cold in here,” She chuckled as, with a single finger, she traced the line of the bulge tent-poling the front of his boxers.

“Holy crap,” He shuddered. “How long you reckon till they start to miss us out in the shop?”

“Well, it’s your daydream,” she shrugged. “So they’ll just have to wait. And besides, I think I can guess what you’d dream of next, and it isn’t going back out there.”

He nodded. She had a point. Two of them, in actual fact, pushing through the cream lace cupping her breasts, demanding his attention. And they were difficult to ignore.

She hitched her fingers in either side of the waistband of his Calvins and tugged them down, allowing him to bob free. She grinned up at him with big eyes, took him in both hands, leant forwards, licked his tip then blew on it.

“So, is that what humans mean by a blow job?” she teased. He chuckled and shook his head. She arched an eyebrow then pursed her lips and sucked him in.

Words failed him.

He blinked. He panted. He buried his fingers in her long, black, silky hair.

She sucked. She bobbed up and down. She rolled her tongue against him.

He whimpered.

When he thought he might not last much longer, she withdrew and gracefully flowed back to her feet, licking her upper lip. “Tasty,” she smirked as she placed her hands on his bulging biceps.

He pulled her close and kissed her hard, tasting a hint of himself on her.

Strong, capable male fingers hooked the sides of her panties and pushed them down, past the swell of her buttocks. She gasped and rolled her head back. He nibbled her neck. How could he not?

“Nice daydream you’re having,” she smirked, stroking the lace of the hair on his arms into whorls.

“You think?” he winked back as his manhood inveigled itself between her thighs, her saliva from earlier mixing with her own juices, facilitating his access as he slid, hot, hard and insistently across her lips.

The more intimate contact signalled an abrupt change in tempo, from slow and seductive to hungry and urgent. They matched their timing, speeding up together like expert dancers: She draped her arms around his shoulders, using the leverage to lift herself, wrapping long, stockinged legs around his waist and holding on tight. His hands held her waist, steadying her, as he spun and stepped forward, pressing her back against the nearest wall.

The pressure of her back hitting the wall caused her to rise an inch or two. When she lowered again a second later, their positioning was perfect. His length slid slickly into her, aided by gravity, ample lubrication and by both of their states of considerable arousal.

All four hands were busy maintaining their position, so caresses were limited. Not that it mattered much. They were fused at mouth and hip, his strong legs pistoning her up and down the wall, gravity and their body weights combining to grind her against him in a most moist, stimulating manner.

They both knew it was going to be over soon: there was a considerable pent-up fluid backlog and it needed releasing. And besides, they needed to get back out into the shop before tongues started to wag.

Not that they weren’t both thoroughly enjoying themselves. Far from it. The circumstances just helped to add a heightened intensity to an already febrile experience.

They rocked and ground and kissed hard, tongues battling for dominance.

Her fingers tugged as best they could on his short cropped hair.

His fingers dug deep into the flesh of her eema as he supported her weight.

Her breath hitched in a deep, prolonged and heartfelt gasp.

He twitched inside her, releasing his pent up tension.

She spasmed around him, responding in kind.

He groaned, high pitched at first but soon dropping through the registers.

She squeaked and then he felt her muscles begin to relax.

The burst dam of his backlog subsided to a final trickle.

And slowly their breathing began to return to normal.

“That was some daydream!” She gasped as he lowered her back to her feet and took a step back, never taking his eyes off hers.

“It’s not done yet,” he grinned boyishly back at her, rubbing his bottom lip with his thumb. “In point of fact, we’re not even done trying on wedding dresses.”

Her eyes sparkled, she bit her bottom lip and her smile brightened into a radiant grin. “If only there were more daydreams like this...”

“If only...”

 

The end. And Sweet Dreams.

 

 


End file.
